Columns

Former sequoia tree giant,
diminished now to eyelash size,
my friend, the god, living
from coastal high towers
above beach-breaking waves,
looks ant-like in his new shape.
I ask him how he got so small –
he tells me “life beats us faster
than red foxtrot feet.” I am still
young, I don’t know how quick
it can grab away your fingertips
and snatch your children clear
out of the sky. But he tells me
he was crushed not when
his daughter drowned, but
when he saw her waterlogged
body. That’s what made him small.